


Handyman Fitz to the Rescue

by stjarna



Series: Writing Prompts / Drabbles / Requests [30]
Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Domesticity, F/M, First part Academy era, Fitz can fix stuff, Fluff, Friends to Lovers, Friendship, Tumblr Prompt, happy fluff, second part future fic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-10 00:06:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,098
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11679924
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/stjarna/pseuds/stjarna
Summary: Based on a Tumblr prompt by @florchis: Fitz and Simmons are visiting her parents (either before or after they start dating- or it can happen more than one time!) and something breaks at the Simmons’ household, and Handyman Fitz goes to the rescue (Bonus point for Mama Simmons swooning)





	Handyman Fitz to the Rescue

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Florchis](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Florchis/gifts).



> Banner by the wonderful and amazing @memorizingthedigitsofpi
> 
> Big thank you to @dilkirani for the beta.

Fitz’s eyes widen as he takes in the rather impressive looking building, tucked away in the countryside just outside Sheffield. Jemma brings the car to a halt right next to the main entrance, and Fitz swallows before getting out. His eyes are still fixed on the beautiful façade, the meticulously painted window frames, the flowerpots and flower beds in full bloom. Slowly, he walks to the boot, opening it and lifting his bag out.

“Well, shall we?” Jemma sounds incredibly chipper, her ponytail bouncing up and down as she walks around the car to where Fitz is standing. “They’re so excited to meet you.”

“Uh-huh,” Fitz mumbles quietly, feeling his heart beat nervously in his chest.

“Come on.” Jemma gently grabs him by the elbow, dragging Fitz along to the main door.

She opens the large wooden door and steps inside. “Mum, Dad, we’re here!”

Fitz follows her in slight hesitation, his eyes wandering around the interior of her parents’ home. The house is surprisingly cool, considering the heat wave that has plagued South Yorkshire for almost a week now. The thick stone walls offer good protection and insulation from the burning sun.

Fitz draws in a short, anxious breath, noticing his stomach muscles tensing when a middle-aged woman with brown, wavy hair and a man of about equal age, whose hair and beard are a bit of a salt’n’pepper mix, peek around the corner and walk up to where Jemma and Fitz are standing close to the entrance.

A wide smile appears on Jemma’s face and she takes half a step to the side, making Fitz feel strangely exposed to her parents’ sudden approach.

“Mum, Dad, this is Fitz.” Jemma gestures at Fitz, before moving her hand in the direction of her parents. “Fitz, this is my mum, Margaret, and my dad, James Simmons.”

Fitz clears his throat, holding on tightly with both hands to the strap of his bag. “Mrs Simmons, Mr Simmons, thank you so much for having me over.”

“Oh, absolutely.” Mrs Simmons smiles widely, and Fitz can see a lot of Jemma in her mother’s facial features ( _or the other way around rather maybe_ ). “Jemma talks so much about you, Fitz, it was about time we met you. And please, call me Margaret.”

“Yes, absolutely, call me James.” Jemma’s dad stretches out his hand, and somehow Fitz manages to will his hand to remain somewhat steady when he accepts the offer of a handshake.

“How was the train ride?” James adds, shaking Fitz’s hand firmly. “Jemma mentioned you’ve been visiting your mother in—”

“Glasgow. Yes.” Fitz nods ever so slightly, before shrugging his shoulders. “The ride was fine. Uneventful.”

“Well, come on in now, Fitz.” Enthusiastically and with a welcoming smile playing on her lips, Margaret waves Fitz inside, before looking at her daughter. “Jemma, why don’t you show him the guest room while I prepare some tea and biscuits?”

“Oh, absolutely,” Jemma replies, grabbing Fitz’s elbow to get his attention and gesturing with her free hand up the stairs. “This way. It’s a lovely room.”

Fitz takes a hesitant step towards the staircase, but stops when Margaret raises one hand.

“Oh. I was thinking of making a roast for tonight. You like roast, Fitz?”

Fitz nods. “Yes, definitely. I… I eat just about anything. Especially when there’s meat and potatoes involved.”

The corners of Margaret’s mouth pull up contently. “Man after my own heart.”

* * *

After showing Fitz the guest room he’d be staying in, as well as her own room, where they’d spent a good ten minutes discussing Jemma’s book collection, Jemma leads Fitz back into the hallway and to the door across from the guest room, opening it and gesturing inside.

“And this is the bathroom. Towels are in that closet. Shampoos and the like for guests are in there as well.” Jemma takes a step inside and opens the closet, showing Fitz the stacks of meticulously folded towels of different sizes as well as an array of various shampoo and shower gel bottles, toothbrushes (still sealed in plastic), and toothpastes. “Help yourself to anything you need. My parents have an ensuite bathroom in their room, so you won’t have to worry about seeing them run around naked and—”

Jemma stops when her mother’s voice can be heard loudly and quite urgently from downstairs.

“James! James, come here, please. James!”

Jemma looks at Fitz in surprise, whose eyes nervously wander in the direction of the stairs. They can hear her father’s footsteps rushing to the kitchen and then Jemma’s parents’ muffled voices.

Jemma smiles shyly at Fitz, a hint of anxiety hidden in her features as she walks to the top of the stairs. She holds onto the banister and leans slightly forward.

“Mum? Dad? Is everything alright?”

When they don’t get a reply, Jemma rushes down the stairs with Fitz right behind her. They find Jemma’s mum standing in the kitchen with a large Dutch oven in her hands while her dad is kneeling on the ground with his head in the oven and a flashlight in hand.

Margaret turns to face Jemma and Fitz, shrugging slightly. “Well, I was just about to put the roast in the oven when I noticed it is completely cold even though it should have been preheating for ten minutes already.”

She turns slightly, looking at her husband’s bum instead. “James?”

James pulls his head out of the oven and stands back up, rubbing his hands clean on the legs of his trousers. “Well, I’m no expert, but I’d say it’s broken.”

Margaret slumps her shoulders, sighing deeply. “Oh, well, now what horrendous timing is this?”

Jemma’s dad shrugs apologetically, pressing his lips into a thin line. “Well, I suppose I can always drive into town and pick up food. Chinese? Italian? Indian? Fish’n’chips?”

Margaret looks rather pitiful, gesturing in Fitz’s direction with the Dutch oven. “Oh, but for our special guest? How unfortunate.”

“I… I could take a look. If… if you’d like.” Fitz nervously rubs the back of his neck, before pointing at the still-open oven.

Jemma smiles widely, her eyes lighting up instantaneously. “That’s right. Fitz is an engineer after all. Most certainly the best S.H.I.E.L.D. has to offer and that is saying something.”

Fitz looks down briefly, hoping the gesture will somehow allow him to hide the blush creeping up his cheeks and the proud, little grin that’s tugging on the corners of his mouth. He clears his throat, glancing first at Jemma, before turning to her parents. “Yeah, well, that’s true, I suppose, but… but also, our appliances at home were always ruddy and old and… and I’ve been fixing my mum’s kitchen since I was ten.”

James purses his lips, lifting his shoulders. “Well, I’ll get you my tool kit then. Not sure how much good it’ll do you, but—”

“I’m sure it’ll work,” Fitz replies, smiling shyly.

* * *

* * *

The door swings open before Jemma can even put the key into the lock.

“Hey Mu—” Jemma tries to exclaim happily, but her mother reaches right past her, grabbing Fitz’s arm instead, who looks somewhat dumbstruck as Margaret pulls him into the house.

“Fitz, oh thank goodness you’re here.” Margaret drags Fitz further into the hallway, who manages not to stumble over his own feet. She stops, lets go of Fitz’s arm and turns around, gesturing wildly, a little notepad in one of her hands. “I made a list this time, so we don’t forget anything.”

Jemma gasps, closing the front door with a bit more oomph than strictly necessary to get her mother’s attention. “Mum, we just got here, after a seven-hour flight, a three-hour train ride and with a five-hour time difference, not to mention traffic to the airport, a taxi-ride from the train station to here, the sheer exhaustion of travel in general—”

“It’s fine, Jemma. I can take a look.” Fitz smiles softly, and there’s a loving sparkle in his eyes that immediately lets Jemma relax, even though she can’t stop herself from sighing deeply, batting her eyes once slowly as if to say, _You’re too good for this world, Fitz_.

Margaret hooks her arm around Fitz’s, pulling her son-in-law a little closer. “See, Jemma, it’s fine he says. God knows, your father isn’t going to fix anything around here.”

“Well, not if you keep insisting on saving all projects for when these two come to visit.” Jemma’s face lights up when she sees her father step out of the kitchen and into the hallway.

“Hello, Fitz.” James pats Fitz’s shoulder in passing, before walking over to Jemma, leaning forward to place a light kiss to his daughter’s cheek. “Hello, sweetheart.”

“Hello, Dad.”

“Well, at least I can be certain that my things won’t break again once Fitz is done with them,” Margaret teases her husband. “I mean the oven he fixed more than ten years ago? Still works like a charm. I’ll gladly wait a few months for repairs if it means they’ll last me a lifetime!”

Jemma exchanges a quick look with Fitz, who nods barely noticeably. She puffs her chest out proudly, unable to hide a smile. “Well, soon you may not have to wait that long for your repairs anymore, Mum.”

“Oh? How come?” James asks in surprise, his hands tucked into his pockets.

Fitz scratches the skin below his ears with his free hand, shrugging slightly. “We’re thinking about moving closer. Either here or Scotland, depending on where we can find jobs.”

An audible gasp escapes Margaret’s lips, and her eyes wander curiously from Fitz to Jemma and back. “Is that so? How come? Not that I’m complaining, but I thought things were going rather well at work, what with S.H.I.E.L.D. being reestablished and all that.”

“Well, things are going well at work,” Jemma explains, trying to keep her tone deliberately matter-of-fact. “But we decided that it would be nice to raise our children closer to their grandparents.”

Margaret’s eyes double in size and she lets go of Fitz’s arm, clutching her chest instead. “Your what now?”

Jemma grins ear to ear, pulling her shoulders up as far as they will go. “Surprise!”

Her mum takes a surprised step back, stumbling over a pair of shoes on the floor. She reaches for a jacket on the coat rack for support, but ends up pulling the wooden fixture down with her. Luckily for everyone, the coat rack lands on the shoe shelf without injuring anyone, while Margaret lands inelegantly on her bum.

“Mum! Are you alright?” Jemma, with her dad and Fitz in tow, rushes a few steps forward to where Margaret is still sitting on the floor, her eyes wide as plates.

“You’re pregnant?” she asks in disbelief.

Jemma nods, smiling widely. “With twins.”

“Twins?” Margaret draws in a surprised breath, her hands once again pressed tightly against her chest. “Oh my!”

Fitz points at his mother-in-law, grinning one-sidedly. “That’s what I said. Not exactly in those words. There may have been more swearing involved.”

Margaret suddenly becomes more mobile, one hand reaching for the ground and her bum shifting slightly, while her free hand gestures urgently in her husband’s direction. “Well, James, get your lazy bum down here and help me up.”

James lets out a quiet laugh, before helping his wife up. Once she stands, facing Jemma and Fitz, Margaret waves her arms towards herself. “Oh, come here you two!”

She pulls them both into a tight hug, before lifting her head slightly. “You too, James.”

For a few blissful moments, the small group remains huddled in a family hug, until Margaret lets go, wiping away a few stray happy tears, before rubbing her hands dry on her blouse.

“Well, we need to celebrate!” she exclaims excitedly. “I was going to make roast with potatoes for dinner! Seems rather fitting, don’t you think?”

A smile flashes across Jemma’s face. “Sounds good to me. Perfect for the occasion.”

“And I’ll see if we still have a bottle of champagne in the cellar,” James chimes in, already taking a few energetic steps towards the stairs to the basement.

“Oh, I’m so happy for you two.” Margaret wraps her arms around Jemma’s and Fitz’s shoulders, leading them slowly towards the living room.

Her eyes fall to the broken coat rack in passing, and she pulls Fitz a little closer, nudging her head in the same direction. “We’ll just add that to the list of things to fix, shall we?”

Fitz chuckles quietly, patting Margaret’s hand on his shoulder. “Sounds like a plan.”


End file.
